


lover

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinkuary 2021 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Auror Harry Potter, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Neediness, Praise Kink, Secret Relationship, Work Conflicts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Draco would be utterly intolerable if he weren't so damngoodat everything he does.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinkuary 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132463
Comments: 53
Kudos: 293
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	lover

**Author's Note:**

> the february 1 prompt for kinkuary 2021 is— _praise kink_.

Draco Malfoy is a fucking perfectionist, and it makes Harry _furious_.

He’s obsessive and pedantic and _rude_ about it—he spends half his life barging into Harry’s office uninvited and with no notice, brandishing reams of parchment and yapping in that supercilious nasal tone, sneering down at Harry’s messy desk and running through all the accounting issues Harry’s department is responsible for at such a fast clip that Harry can’t keep up, can only blink slowly and clench his fists under his desk, counting to ten in an effort to not resort to violence as Draco crosses his arms and smirks.

Draco’s clothes are always perfectly pressed and starched to within an inch of his life. He wears the same style of shirt in a variety of colours every day, rotating between them on a strict schedule only he understands (Harry wasted over a week one time trying to track the pattern and he only got as far as determining it’s not alphabetical), and he has six different suits that he seems to select based on mood. He somehow always seems to coordinate his ties with the Minister’s, so when they’re striding down the halls, heads bent together as they discuss whatever budgetary crisis the Ministry is dealing with that day, they look like a matched pair. Harry doesn’t know how Draco’s doing it, but he _knows_ it’s on purpose, knows it’s to make people associate Draco with Kingsley’s authority—and the worst part of it all is that it _works_.

Draco terrorizes every Department Head on rota; everyone gets a visit twice a month, and it’s obvious who’s due for their bimonthly bollocking by the way the tension on that floor ratchets up and the activity reaches an almost frenetic pace. It never helps, though; there’s always some inconsistency, some little mistake that Draco takes savage glee in pointing out.

Well. Every _other_ Department Head gets a visit twice a month.

 _Harry_ is lucky if he only gets interrupted twice a _week_.

Oh, he understands why it’s necessary—it’s been explained to him so many times by now, he’s got no choice _but_ to understand.

Draco has a head for numbers. Draco is working very, very hard to atone for what happened during the War. Draco is the only reason the Ministry was able to identify and eliminate enough money pits to remain solvent and not have to make anyone redundant. Draco needs this job, and if it gets out that _Harry Potter_ is complaining about him, public opinion might force the Ministry into letting him go.

All perfectly reasonable, of course. Harry doesn’t disagree with any of it.

Just. When Draco is _there,_ smirking down at him with his arms folded and that fucking eyebrow halfway to his hairline, it’s hard for Harry to keep his cool.

“Fuck—” he sighs, dropping his head into his hands. The clock Hermione perma-spelled to his wall (he kept knocking it down when he bounced balls off the wall) _tick-tick-tick_ s away, and he was up early and now he’s here late, and he just can’t handle it. “—look, Malfoy, I’m _sorry_ Cleverly fucked up his expense report again. I’ve talked to him, god, four times now? I don’t know what to say. He’s an idiot. Maybe _you_ should talk to him. Hell, host a fucking _seminar_ on this shit and I’ll make it mandatory, I don’t care, just—” His fingernails dig into his scalp. “I don’t have time for this tonight, alright? Can we deal with this tomorrow?”

His office is quiet, except for the fucking ticking clock, and then there’s a light touch along the back of his head. “Okay,” Draco says, quietly, voice low and soothing. “Okay, Harry. I’ll see you at home.”

He shuts the door softly behind him when he leaves, and he must have Silenced the clock on the way out, too, something Harry’s never been able to figure out, because Harry’s office is finally, blessedly, silent.

Harry works for another hour, signing off on forms and authorizing requests for consultations and picking at the dinner his secretary left before she took off for the evening. Finally, the silvery paperweight he keeps at the corner of his desk starts buzzing insistently, and he stretches, groaning as his back pops.

He taps the paperweight twice and it goes still, then stands and gathers his things together before trudging off to the lifts, then to the Floos in the Atrium.

When he gets home, the candles in the living room are lit, and the house smells like vanilla—Draco’s been baking, then. Harry smiles, tosses his bag onto the closest end-table, chucks his jacket on the couch, and leaves his shoes haphazard near the fireplace. He’ll deal with it later.

He noses around for a bit and finally tracks Draco down in the library, curled up in one corner of the enormous sofa, glasses low on his nose as he flips through a magazine. Harry flops down onto his stomach on the cushions, rearranging himself until his head is pillowed on Draco’s thigh and the magazine has been abandoned. Draco starts running his fingers through his hair, and Harry sighs and shuts his eyes, feeling the tension of the day fleeing from his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Draco finally says. Harry keeps his eyes closed and makes an inquiring sound. “Sorry I… I know that it. That I’m. It’s just.” He trails off, and Harry twists his neck and looks up.

Draco looks distressed. His hair is messy and he’s in a too-big jumper and all his sharp gleaming edges have been sanded down, and Harry loves him so much his chest aches with it.

“You’re just doing your job,” he says, reaching up and pinching Draco’s cheek lightly. “I know that. It’s necessary. And my department _does_ suck at this. _I_ suck at this. If you weren’t around so often reminding me I wouldn’t ever turn any of the expense reports in, and we’d be so over budget within a week that Kingsley would sling me out on my arse without a second thought. You have a… _particular_ way of getting stuff done, but it’s effective. I was just having a bad day, today.”

Draco turns a faint pink, but there’s still a crease between his eyebrows. He digs his fingers harder into Harry’s scalp, and Harry groans, pushing into the pressure and shifting his hips against the couch cushions. “I sometimes forget that for as utterly horrific Cleverly makes my days, he must make yours a thousand times worse.”

Harry snorts. “I’ve been pawning him off on Dean, truth be told. I’m far too busy and important to deal with the rookies, you know.”

Draco laughs at that, and something in Harry settles at the sound.

He drifts for a bit, lulled by the repetitive motion of Draco’s hands in his hair, and jolts a bit when Draco speaks again. “You don’t suck, you know. You’re not nearly as bad as Games. You just have a little trouble remembering the deadlines.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to make me feel better. I know where my strengths are. I’m just lucky that _you’re_ so damn good at your job; you’re propping me up with this stuff, and you know it.”

Draco’s breath hitches and his fingers pause briefly, and Harry’s focus sharpens.

Draco clears his throat. “Well, as long as we’re fine. A certain amount of… _animosity_ is expected at work, with us, but I don’t… Well, I don’t _really_ want to upset you.”

Harry keeps his eyes fixed on Draco. “No, we’re just fine. You’re such a good actor.”

Draco’s pupils dilate.

“Oh,” Harry says, reaching up and tracing a finger along Draco’s jaw. “You like that? You like that I think you’re good? You do, don’t you.”

Draco shivers, and Harry sits up and scrambles to straddle him. He pushes forward and oh, Draco’s half-hard already. 

“Harry,” Draco whines, running his hands down Harry’s back and grabbing his arse.

“You _really_ like it. Oh, that feels good,” Harry sighs, grinding forward slow and dirty as Draco grips him hard. “You feel so good under me. _Draco_.”

“What— What do you want? What do you need? I can—tell me what I can do,” Draco says breathlessly, inching his hands down under Harry’s trousers, fingers cold on skin.

Harry sucks in a sharp breath and shifts forward. “Cold,” he murmurs, and Draco chuckles into the side of his neck. “Ohhh, there.”

Obligingly, Draco kisses just under Harry’s jaw, then sucks over his tendon, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin. His hands are roaming under Harry’s shirt now, warming with every stroke over his back.

“Here, let me—hang on,” Harry pants, pulling back to stand and quickly remove his clothes. He wiggles back into Draco’s lap once Draco’s got his trousers pushed down, too impatient to wait more.

He pushes Draco’s shirt up, sliding his palms along Draco’s stomach and chest, cupping his pecs. “You look so good,” he says, pinching Draco’s nipples just a little too hard to get him squirming between Harry’s thighs. “I love your chest. I love how red you get.” He ducks his head to worry at Draco’s collarbone with his teeth, shoving the shirt the rest of the way over Draco’s head and throwing it behind the sofa. Harry loves seeing his marks on Draco later, loves watching Draco fuss and scold in the mirror as he arranges his shirts to cover them.

“Fuck,” Draco pants, throwing his head back turning even pinker under Harry’s attention. “Harry, I—”

Harry moves up the arch of Draco’s neck, biting once over his Adam’s apple. The air between their bodies is humid and warm, and the small of Harry’s back is slick with sweat as he grinds against Draco. “I want you to put your fingers in me,” he says into Draco’s ear, drawing out a full-body shudder. “You’re so good with your hands. Do you think you can make me come, just like that? I bet you can.”

A muffled whisper against Harry’s shoulder, and Draco’s fingers are slick, gliding down his spine and circling his hole. “Like that?” Draco says, swirling slowly, pressing lightly but not all the way in.

Harry whines and tries to push back onto Draco’s finger, but Draco’s other hand on his hip holds him firm. “Come on,” he begs, “I want it, Draco, please, give them to me.”

Draco obligingly slides one finger in, not stopping until it’s all the way in, and crooks it to rub firmly against Harry’s prostate, finding that spot unerringly. “There?”

“God,” Harry groans, dropping his head into the crook of Draco’s neck. “ _Yes_. That feels so good. You’re so good. Draco, please, _more_.”

Draco’s breathing is fast and uneven against the side of Harry’s head, and he hunches forward a bit as he adds a second finger. “God, you should see…” he trails off, pressing hard on Harry’s prostate and sending a warm flush of pleasure through Harry’s whole body.

“Don’t need to see, I can _feel,_ ” Harry hisses out, squirming as much as he can in Draco’s firm grip. “Faster, I need— _yes,_ just like _that,_ you’re so good, it feels so good, don’t stop, Draco, Draco—” His thighs tremble and he shoves forward just enough to get a little friction on his cock against Draco’s stomach. His dick is drooling precome between them and he’s so hard, so sensitive that it’s only going to take just—a little—

“Oh shit,” Harry gasps, and comes all over Draco’s stomach. He slumps forward and breathes for a minute, listening to Draco’s racing heart. “No, don’t pull out yet, just—” He wiggles his hand between them and gets his hand around Draco’s cock, which is so wet at the tip.

“Ahh,” Draco hisses, twisting his fingers just a bit inside Harry and pressing down on his prostate again.

“That was so good, Draco,” Harry murmurs, sliding his hand along Draco’s cock. “You always do such a good job with that. You know exactly what to do to take me completely apart. You make me feel _so_ good, Draco, every single time.”

Draco’s whole body is trembling, and he’s gasping for air. “Oh god, oh god,” he whimpers, hand clenching spasmodically over Harry’s hip. “Harry, please, I need—”

Harry puts his lips to Draco’s ear. “Good boy, Draco. Come now.”

Draco comes all over Harry’s hand with a sound like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Harry works him through it until Draco pulls his fingers out and shoves Harry’s hand away, hissing and oversensitive.

Harry leans forward and presses their torsos together. It’s wet between them, kind of disgusting really, but Harry doesn’t mind, needs that closeness right now, and anyway he knows that Draco likes it.

“Fuuuuck,” Draco groans out, wiping his hand on the sofa cushion and winding his arms around Harry’s waist.

“Mmmm,” Harry agrees, getting a hand in Draco’s hair and tugging lightly. “That was really good.”

Draco stills under him.

“...do we need to talk about that?” Harry offers, petting along the back of Draco’s neck.

“No, I… No. It’s just. I like...knowing that you’re happy with what I’m doing. I like _hearing_ it.”

“Okay,” Harry says peaceably, reaching out and grabbing a blanket from further down the couch and wrapping it around them. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Draco Malfoy is a fucking perfectionist, about absolutely _everything_ he does, and sometimes, Harry likes it. He doesn’t mind telling Draco when that’s the case.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/641971898438287360/kinkuary-day-1-lover).


End file.
